Sometimes It's Handy to be English
by willwrite4fics
Summary: While Newkirk is always proud to be English, it doesn't always come in handy, until it does. Entry for the Short Story Speed Writing Challenge


Bob's your uncle.

Second entry, and this one is to answer poor beleaguered Newkirk's request for a girl and also perhaps to make up for some of the terrible things he'd dealt with.

For those innocent in nature, they're enjoying some very flavorful cookies, yes. That's is. For the rest of you, for shame! Shame!

* * *

The small group of German civilians crept through the woods as quietly as possible. One of them stumbled over a tree root and fell sprawling into another one. Both of them crashed into the brush, issuing very non-German sounding curses.

The larger of the figures righted himself first and dragged the other to his feet as well, giving him one last shake. "Bloody watch out! Carter, I'll punch you in the ruddy nose if you knock me into one more thornbush!"

"Sorry!" Carter was brushing himself off and trying to pick the little branches out of his clothing. "I didn't mean to, boy, that tree root was just in the path and I didn't see it or I would have stepped over..."

"Shhh!" The hiss of warning came from the front. "Both of you stop fighting and be quiet! Do you want a SS patrol to hear you?" LeBeau's much smaller form came out of the darkness to glare up at both of them.

Newkirk brushed leaves out of his hair while frowning. "It's his fault, ruddy git knocked me over again." They continued on the path through the trees again.

LeBeau chastised them one last time before he moved on ahead. "If the SS hears you, it won't matter. They won't shoot just Carter for it being his fault." He disappeared into the gloom.

Glaring both at the dark space that held the now-distant Frenchman and at the clumsy American behind him, Newkirk grumbled anyway, although he did so at a lower volume. "Would serve you right if they did shoot just you." He made his way through the woods while still making certain that Carter kept up behind him. Regardless of the level of clumsiness, he wasn't going to let his teammate get lost… again.

Carter tried to watch where he was walking and also make sure that he stayed behind Newkirk. Despite all of his years of spending time in the woods and his Indian heritage, he still managed to be clumsy. He still knew more about the woods and he still knew way more about explosives and lots of other things. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't incompetent and it wasn't even half fair of Newkirk to continually blame him when he fell into Newkirk and knocked him into things. In fact, he should really tell Newkirk off and he would sure do just that as soon as he saw him again.

Carter stopped suddenly and looked around the dark trees and bushes and stumps and snow and realized that he didn't see any annoyed Englishmen dressed as German civilians anywhere. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh, what?" Newkirk's voice came from a few feet down the path. "Keep up, Carter."

Carter rushed along the path, catching up easily and almost ramming into the waiting Britishman. "Sorry!" He made certain to stay within a few feet of Newkirk for the rest of the walk. It wasn't all that much further to the safehouse. Colonel Hogan had met the brother and sister who lived there and the Underground had checked them out thoroughly. Tonight, the three POWs would meet some of the Underground operatives so that Carter could give them instructions on wiring some new timers on explosives and LeBeau could translate some documents from Vichy French nationals into English, so that Newkirk could then translate them to German. The local members of the Underground were quite good at spoken English but not quite as good at written English at times. With precision instructions, everyone would prefer the better translations whenever possible.

By the time the two men had reached the house, LeBeau was already impatiently waiting at the doorway. "Will you two hurry up?"

"What's the rush, LeBeau? We're still early." Newkirk deliberately kept his pace to an amble just to irk his friend. "The Underground won't even be here for a good half hour and we're not going to be missed in camp until morning roll call." He smiled as he lit a cigarette. "Might as well enjoy the evening, know what I mean?"

LeBeau scowled mightily. "We shouldn't be out in the open any longer than absolutely necessary. There is no reason to take chances with the German patrols around." He shooed them inside, Carter slipping inside right away. Newkirk took a moment to finish his cigarette. He was obviously amused at LeBeau's impatience. "Get inside, Newkirk."

"Pfft." Newkirk finally moved to go in. "Why should I be in any rush to spend 'alf a bloody 'our staring at two old German gaffers who barely speak English?" He still made sure to wipe his boots on the mat inside the door. "Carter? Where did you get to?"

"I'm in the sitting room." Carter's voice came from another room and there was soft thumps as he came through a door. "In here. There's a fireplace and it's really nice and warm." He disappeared back away and LeBeau and Newkirk quickly followed. Once in the cozy sitting room, they shed their outer coats and gloves and greeted the middle aged man that rose to meet them.

"Guten tag, mein friends. Good evening. I am Hans." He smiled warmly at them both, holding Newkirk's hand while he gave a soft laugh. "I promise to not be a 'gaffer' who will bore you."

Newkirk turned slightly dark. "Ahh sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Ahh… you are… English." His voice had gone slightly disapproving. "This will please my sister."

"What vill please me, Hans?" The lady in question had come into the room with a tray of dishes. "My brother… he has no sense of the duties of a proper host. Coffee?" She set the tray down in front of the couch as Carter stood. "There is bread with some butter as well."

"Thank you, mademoiselle, it is more than generous." LeBeau smiled at her, his eyes taking in the generous curves. Perhaps she was no Marya but she was still a lovely woman, even if she was German.

Newkirk's interest had peaked for the same reasons. He liked the curly dark hair and the curvy lines under the modest dress. "Thankee indeed, miss." He smiled and took her hand. "Me name's Peter." His eyes cut over to give LeBeau a warning look.

He needn't have bothered. At his first words, her eyes had lit up and she gave him a shy smile. "My name is Anna." she drew closer to Newkirk and fluttered her eyelashes rather outrageously at him. "My… you seem so… strong.." Her eyes roamed over him.

LeBeau's eyebrows had practically disappeared into his hairline. "Umm… well..." He looked to Hans.

Looking rather resigned, Hans sighed and motioned for the two other POWs to sit. "My sister Anna. She has an irrational liking for Englishmen. I think it's a foolish notion but she has always been this way." He settled into an armchair next to the couch and poured coffee into the mismatched cups on the tray. "Coffee?"

Carter took the offered cup and a piece of the bread. "Well, I guess to each their own but it seems a little strange to me too." He concentrated on the bread, enjoying the luxury of butter and white bread. "This is really good." He licked butter off of his finger.

Hans nodded and eyed the pair in the corner of the room with slight annoyance. "Yes, when Anna isn't fawning over young men who probably have little interest in her… she is an excellent baker." He sighed when both of them ignored his raised voice. "She is hopeless."

LeBeau turned his back and scoffed. "Peter is no better. He is shameless." He took buttered bread himself.

Carter checked and then looked away. "They're… they're kissing. They just met." He sounded disapproving. Looking at Hans, he frowned. "Aren't you going to say something to him?"

Hans raised his eyebrows and checked for himself. "Why? Anna is her own person. I can't stop her. I've tried talking sense into her and she never listens." He shrugged. "Other than this minor obsession with Englanders, she is a very sensible woman." He waved a hand in the air vaguely. "Enough of my sister and her new… freund. I understand that the underground is sending two men with papers and that also one of you knows about explosives?" His eyes flicked over to the couple and then he rolled his eyes. "Bitte, tell me that one is not the explosives expert."

Carter scoffed rather self-importantly. "Of course not. Well, he does understand the basics but only because I told him about how to do all of it."

Suddenly looking a little bit anxious, Hans looked at LeBeau. "I thought perhaps you?"

"Non. I am the French translator." LeBeau indicated Carter. "He is the crazy person who blows things up." His hand waved vaguely toward the couple. "He is the one who will translate into German." He shrugged expressively. "I can speak German but I cannot write it as well as he can." LeBeau tried to sound reassuring. "I know that we are perhaps not the most orthodox team but I assure you that we do all know our jobs."

Having gotten himself a second piece of bread and eaten it quickly, Carter now spoke up. "Yeah, Newkirk can even do magic tricks and LeBeau can cook and I really do know all about explosives. I mean once I made this batch of nitroglycerin and boy was it powerful! I didn't expect it to be that good and when we used the regular amount, well boy, you should have just seen everything go up!" His enthusiasm grew and Hans looked slightly alarmed. "BOOM! There wasn't anything at all left of that bridge. I really think that normally a smaller amount of destruction, placed at the right points of course, can cause just the right amount of destruction without having to use too much explosive. You know, when you use things like TNT or nitroglycerin, you have to adjust for stuff or you can really do a sloppy job."

LeBeau interrupted him. "You'll have to forgive him. He really gets into his work."

"Uuuhhhh… you didn't bring any explosives with you? Right?" Hans shifted himself back in his chair a bit. "I mean, not that it would be a problem… don't get upset… bitte."

"Huh? No. I didn't bring anything but timers and wiring to show how to make timers and such. You know, some parts… but no explosives. I could probably whip some up with a few household cleaners though, if you want me to." Carter's slight confusion quickly turned back to excitement. "I mean, if you have some bleach I could..."

"Non. Carter. Stop." LeBeau shook his head and tried to reassure Hans again. "He really is harmless. Mostly."

Their host didn't look convinced. The strange POWs all seemed to be much more than they had seemed at first glance. Speaking of… he turned to find the room now empty except for the seated trio and sighed.

Carter followed his gaze and then looked around the room in confusion. "Wait, where did Newkirk go?"

LeBeau looked grumpy. "I'm sure that he is fine." He sipped at his coffee and tried to enjoy the rich taste of real coffee. He knew that real coffee was a luxury for German civilians and appreciated it.

Resignation was clear in his tone as Hans answered. "I am sure that Anna is showing him the rest of the house." As he finished speaking there was a distant moan from another room. Hans put his face in his hand. "I apologize."

Carter started to get up. "What was that? Was that Newkirk?" Another slightly louder moan, this one distinctly higher pitched came through the walls and he sat down abruptly. "Oh… that was not Newkirk." He turned red beginning at his ears. The following moan made him clear his throat and fumble to pick up his cup. "The coffee is very good." He spoke a bit louder than he really needed to. "I mean, it's very very good."

LeBeau made a disgusted face as more noises sounded. "I can go… get Newkirk. He has no couth." He didn't make any move to get up though.

Hans waved him to stay seated, wincing as a long drawn out cry rose and fell. "Nein, nein. Anna would kill us all. As I said, she is a grown woman. Perhaps one day she will grow out of this obsession." He closed his eyes and covered his face again as the noises grew. "If only she were not sooo loud…"

LeBeau suddenly tilted his head to listen. "Actually..." He paused. "I think _that_ is Newkirk..." He listened again. "Oui. That is definitely Newkirk."

Hans raised his eyebrows but Carter spoke first. "How would you know what he sounds like… like when… when he… you know."

"Do you have any idea how many times we've been sent on missions together? Do you really think that we never did anything but the mission while we were out?" LeBeau snorted. "It's been a long war!"

Carter stuttered. "But… but… you shouldn't be doing things like that! You're not married!" He cringed when the noises grew louder for a moment. "He's not married! And what about that fan dancer!?"

"Pfft." LeBeau gave him a pitying look. "It's… been… a long… war." He rolled his eyes a bit as a long undulating cry sounded. Suddenly he laughed. "Oh, here we all sit, being embarrassed by both of them. Think how embarrassed they will be when they come out here and realize we could hear them!"

Hans laughed as well. "Perhaps it will teach Anna a little bit of discretion."

Carter tried to laugh uneasily. "I doubt it will teach Newkirk anything. He isn't couth at all."

LeBeau corrected him. "You mean he is uncouth."

"Isn't that what I said?" asked Carter. "Hey… they stopped." He relaxed a bit and went back to enjoying his coffee. "Boy, that's a relief."

"I'm sure it was." LeBeau tried to not laugh but failed.

Carter sounded a little cross. "That's not what I meant at all." LeBeau simply continued to laugh at his expression. "I hope those Underground agents show up early."

The conversation turned to the translation work that LeBeau was expected to do, since Hans seemed uneasy with Carter's excitement regarding explosives. Everyone fell silent when Newkirk emerged from the back of the house.

LeBeau's tone was scathing. "Are you done?"

Newkirk ignored his tone entirely as he came to scrunch into the couch beside LeBeau. His face wore a rather dazed looking smile. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Narrowing his eyes, LeBeau grumbled at him. "I can't believe how shameless you are. Really? I should break your leg or something."

Never losing even the slightest amount of his satisfied smile, Newkirk hefted one leg up into LeBeau's lap. "Go ahead and break it. I wouldn't even feel it right now."

Shoving the leg off of his lap, LeBeau snorted at him. "Stop it. You're just disgusting."

"And you're just jealous." Newkirk slouched down into the couch. "She liked me accent. See, Louie, all you 'ave to do to 'ave birds climbing on you is to be born British. We're just naturally sexy beasts." He inhaled deeply. "So, just be born a proper Englishman, and Bob's your uncle, you're just irresistible to the ladies like me."

"I'm going to poison you when we get back to camp."

* * *

End

Poor LeBeau. Perhaps some time in the future, I'll give you some fun too.


End file.
